


Big God

by 1VariousStorms1



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora's abilities are a bit different, Angst, Catra has power armor, F/F, Fluff to Angst, This Is Sad, Vague implications/references to Child Abuse/Neglect, You Have Been Warned, chapter titles are songs from the Spiderverse OST, listen to the Spiderverse OST, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-21 07:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1VariousStorms1/pseuds/1VariousStorms1
Summary: "Sometimes I think it's getting better, but then it gets much worse... Jesus Christ, it hurts." Catra is totally on top of her life.  She's got a successful business, loyal employees, lots of money, a nice car, and a woman she loves more than anything.  It's great.  Life is great.  There's just one problem.  One massive, glowing, eight foot tall problem with a sword that keeps butting into things that aren't her business!





	1. Hide

**Author's Note:**

> She made me leave the thrills at home, And I'm fine with it

Mismatched eyes open slowly, blinking from the sunlight streaming into the room.  Catra grunts drowsily and moves to put a hand over her face.  Her shift causes the naked arm resting across her waist to tighten reflexively.  Catra’s other hand runs light fingers over smooth, pale skin, teasing a sleepy sigh from the woman next to her.

“That tickles,” Adora says, the words muffled against the pillow.  Catra smirks, increasing the speed of her caresses.  It gets exactly the response she expects.  “Noooo,” the blonde whines, pulling Catra back against her chest with her powerful arms, pressing her forehead against Catra’s neck.  “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean,” Catra retorts, grinning while Adora can’t see her face.  “It’s not my fault you’re more ticklish than a baby monkey.”

“How dare you use my one weakness against me?  Dastardly,” Adora says, nuzzling her shoulder.

“One weakness?” Catra scoffs playfully.  “I seem to recall you having quite a few weaknesses just last night.”  She carefully turns over to look at her lover, pressing her hand over a perky breast.  “Like when I used my tongue to---"  She receives a light smack as Adora rolls away from her.

“That’s just because you’re really good at it,” Adora says in self-defense, but Catra can see the pink tinge in her cheeks even from this angle.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, babe,” she says as she stretches and begrudgingly sits up.  She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and glances about.

Adora always keeps their tiny bedroom organized and clean, making sure everything is in its “proper” place.  Catra doesn’t give a shit one way or the other, but she supposes it’s easier to find clean underwear now.  She gets up to do just that, while on the other side of the bed Adora is typing something on her phone while she tries to put panties on with one hand.

“Do you have to go in early today?” Catra asks as she reaches into a drawer for a bra.

“Yeah,” Adora says, sending her message and setting her phone on the bed.  “Remember I told you we’re starting those morning classes this month?”  Adora works at a large gym in downtown Bright Moon as a martial arts instructor and personal trainer, teaching people of all ages and types to do push-ups and throw a half-way decent punch.  She’s good at it, makes decent money too, but her schedule changes with the whims of her clients.  Catra doesn’t have to worry about that so much, but her own work often means that she comes and goes at odd hours.  It can be difficult to plan around, but she thinks they manage it alright, all things considered.

“Are you still pairing up with that short girl?  What’s her name, Shimmer?”

“ _Glimmer_ ,” Adora corrects with an indulgent grin.  “And yes, she’s going to be my assistant instructor.  For a girl who barely breaks 4’9”, she can knock your ass through a wall.  I’ve seen it happen so don’t test her.  Right now, we’re mostly gauging interest, seeing how many people show up, so this class might end really early if no one shows.  Then I’ll be free until 1.  You sure you’ll be too busy at the club to grab lunch?”

Catra shrugs.  “If we weren’t hosting that big party for the mayor tonight, I’d say it’d be fine, but there’s a lot of set-up that still needs to be done, and if I’m not there to kick butts into gear it never will be.”

Her girlfriend makes a pouty noise, but kisses her on the cheek as she passes by going to the bathroom.  Catra follows her, wrapping her arms around Adora’s waist and breathing in the scent of her shampoo.  “You still good to be my arm candy tonight?  I can’t wait to show you off to all the jealous plebs in this city.”

Adora rolls her eyes, but grins.  “Yes, I’ll be your Plus 1.  I shouldn’t be at work any later than 5, so I should have enough time to get ready before 8.”

Catra smiles and nips her shoulder gently.  “Are you going to wear _that_ red dress?”  She runs a lusty hand down Adora’s back and over the curve of her ass.

“I haven’t _decided_ yet,” Adora teases.  “And I might never decide if I can’t even brush my teeth this morning, so if you’ll _excuse_ me.”

Catra snickers but steps away.  She’s got her own teeth to brush after all.

Adora makes sure she’s combed out her hair and has a packed lunch before she leaves the house.  Catra feels a bit like a little kid when she does this, but then again, her own mother had never done anything like this, so she supposes it’s just making up for lost time.  Adora knows how to make her favorite sandwich, which also helps.

They part ways with a sweet kiss before Adora walks to her bus stop and Catra makes her way to the shiny black Cadillac parked next to their building, driving in the opposite direction.  She phones her main man at her club, Half-Moon.

“Mornin’ boss,” he greets her.  “Shop’s still getting set up here, but we’ll be plenty ready for tonight.”

“That’s what I like to hear.  Be sure to check all the cameras and table bugs, make extra certain they’re not noticeable.  We _cannot_ have the mayor’s people finding them before we get the dirt, you got me?”

“Loud and clear, boss.  They’ll be damn near invisible when we’re done.”

“Good.  I’m heading to Fright Zone now.  Call me if there are any problems.”  She hangs up and sets her phone in the cupholder.  She maneuvers her ride through the busy morning traffic of Bright Moon’s New East Side, moving away from chic, modern apartments and coffee shops and towards faded brick, broken windows, and graffiti.  A tourist stopping in Bright Moon would be treated to all the pretty parks and department stores of downtown, and all the theater shows, museums, and concerts on the North Side.  They’d never have reason to venture off from their segue tours and come to this part of the city, where they could glimpse the ugly blemish hiding just behind the city’s pretty façade.  They wouldn’t see tenement buildings on the verge of collapse, overcrowded and underheated.  They wouldn’t see the gang signs painted on every bare surface and even on top of each other.  They wouldn’t see the orphans, the runaways, the dealers, the addicts, the homeless, and the sick coming out of the brickwork to try and face another day.  No, they would never see any of that, and wouldn’t care enough to try.

But Catra drives down roads that are very familiar, past managers of shoddy convenience stores and teenagers loitering on the sidewalk.  Everyone in this town knows when she’s riding through, and they nod respectfully at her car it goes by.  She drives until she reaches her destination, the nicest-looking building in the Old East Side, which isn’t saying much.

Fright Zone is a bar and sometimes nightclub, the second club that Catra owns and the one where she conducts her real business.  Half-Moon is the side of her operations that she displays to the public, hence its name, but Fright Zone is really where she spends most of her time.  The parking lot is empty save for two black SUVs and a van, all without license plates or obvious identifying features.  She parks next to them and gets out, throwing on a pair of shades as she walks to the entrance.  Two of her guards greet her there, opening the doors for her. 

The inside of Fright Zone is nothing extravagant, unlike Half-Moon, but it’s good enough for gangsters and that’s all she needs.  She strolls past her soldiers sitting at the bar and scattered tables, and they salute her.

Scorpia is leaning against the door to her office when she reaches it.  She smiles brightly at Catra.  “Good morning, boss!”

“Scorpia,” Catra says, businesslike, but she can’t help her small grin.  It’s hard to be super serious around Scorpia.  They’ve been working together for years now and Catra has learned to go with the flow of her lieutenant’s naturally cheerful attitude.  “Do you have a team for me?”

“You bet!” Scorpia says, following Catra into her office and shutting the door behind her.  When Catra bought Fright Zone and had it refurbished, she’d allowed herself small luxuries in her personal workspace.  Nice carpet, ebony desk, some art on the walls; just enough to make it feel like her own.  She takes a seat behind her very nice ebony desk and opens the file that Scorpia places in front of her.  “They’re ready for real action, Catra.  They won’t disappoint.”

“Thanks, Scorpia, do me a favor and send them to me when they get here.  Until then, go check with ‘Trapta that our gear is good to go.”

“You got it!”  Scorpia waves goodbye on her way out, leaving Catra to the peaceful quiet.  She takes the file and starts skimming through it, going over performance records and a list of training milestones, making her notes on a small pad of paper.  She texts her barkeep to bring her a drink as she reads.

It’s 9:30am when there’s a knock on her door.  Three people step inside, three kids each about 5 years younger than Catra herself.  The first is a girl with dark skin---a few shades more than her own---and short dreds paired with an undercut.  She’s lean, but makes up for lack of fat with muscles, and she walks like she’s marching off to war.  The second is a small, lanky boy, pale and freckled with blonde hair that flies in every direction.  The last is a hulk of a kid with shoulders and biceps as big as his head and the hands to match.  His eyes are green as grass and his mouth is marred by a two-inch long slash across his lips.

They file in side by side and they salute her.  “Captain Scorpia said you wanted to see us, boss?” The girl asks, standing ruler straight and meeting Catra’s eyes, unafraid.

She smiles to see it.  Her mother, the old boss, would have had the girl punished for disrespect, but Catra prefers that her people have some backbone.  “I do.  Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio, Scorpia has been telling me about how your team has performed in training.  You’ve received high scores in your simulations and physical tests, and she’s highlighted your strong team dynamic.”  She indicates their file on her desk.  “She tells me you’re ready to try the real thing.”

She can see the flash of excitement in their eyes, giddiness and pride.  Unlike her mother, Catra doesn’t withhold praise when it’s deserved, and her people are happier for it.

“You mean a real assignment?!” Lonnie blurts out before shutting her mouth with a loud click.  “I-I mean, Captain Scorpia thinks we’re ready for it?”

“She does.  I asked for a competent team to join me on an important job today, one that will help some of our future operations run smoother, and you were her top pick.”  She sips her drink and regards the three of them.  She’s a little concerned about the tiny one, Kyle, but Scorpia assured her that he’s a good getaway driver if not much else.  The other two look like strong, capable cadets, but it’s easier to test that capability on an op like the one today.  “Our job is simple.  We’re robbing the Salineas Credit Union bank in downtown.  No fancy shit, just in for the money and then out, quick and focused.  That being said…” she sets her glass down with a clink and puts her serious face on.  “It’s imperative that we represent ourselves properly.  We need these people to fear us.  They need to see more than a team of uppity thugs who got their hands on some guns.  They need to see us for what we are.  What are we, cadets?”

“We are The Horde!” They say in unison.

“That’s right.”  She stands up, placing her hands in the desk and leaning forward.  “Do well today, and the three of you will officially become soldiers of The Horde, with all the benefits and new responsibilities that entails.  Are you ready to go over our plan?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

 ------

It takes another hour to brief her team on the specifics of the job.  They memorize the layout of the Bank and quiz each other on the best route to take.  Lonnie takes charge of the other two for the most part, a natural leader.  While they prepare themselves, Catra goes to the elevator to visit her ace in the hole.

She had met Entrapta, as she preferred to be known, in high school.  Always a little on the weird side, Entrapta didn’t exactly have friends.  Obsessed with science and machines, she was interested in social interactions mostly as a means to study behavior.  Catra used to find it unsettling, but now it’s just another part of what makes Entrapta… _Entrapta_.  She remembers that it was Adora who introduced them, way back when, but after high school she didn’t see Entrapta for close to five years, not until Catra was the new Boss and Entrapta was evicted from her shitty apartment and kicked out of her job for setting fires with robots.

She works for Catra now, who gives her enough leeway to run her crazy experiments as long as she doesn’t burn down Horde facilities.  In exchange, she provides tech for their operations, everything from better guns and faster cars to stealth drones and knock-out gas.  Catra’s first three years as Boss had gone a lot better than expected with her inventions paving the way, so she doesn’t chide Entrapta even when she releases dangerous airborne chemicals into the ventilation system and they have to evacuate the club for 3 days.  To be fair, that’s only happened four times.

“What have you got for me, ‘Trapta?” She says by way of greeting as she enters the sprawling underground lab.  It’s fitted out with metric tons of equipment Catra can’t even begin to name, but she does know it was money well-spent.  She scans the room for the little scientist, who could hide out of sight with the best of them.

“Catra!” From her left, a welder’s mask and two pigtails of messy pink hair pop into view.  Entrapta hops over the table she is standing behind, bouncing on her feet next to Catra.  She puts her mask up, revealing her huge smile.  “I’m so glad you’re finally here,” she says ecstatically, taking Catra’s hand and bodily dragging her over to one side of the room.  Catra rolls her eyes but allows herself to be moved.  Entrapta leads her over to a large, upright case built into the wall and sealed behind deadly expensive bullet-proof glass.  “I just put the finishing touch-ups on it this morning!”  She smacks a button and fluorescent white light floods the case, revealing what’s inside.  Catra smiles.

“Oh yeah, today’s going to be a good day.”

 ---------

Adora calls her as they ride into downtown.  She’s sitting in the back with Rogelio, who respectfully puts his headset when she picks up.  She has to detach one of her power gloves to do it, but she gets it on the third ring.  “ _Hey Adora_ , what’s going on?”

From the other end she can hear air rushing loudly in the background.  When Adora answers, her voice is louder than usual.  “Oh, nothing really!  I just wanted to call and let you know that my class is done, so I’m going to be running some errands downtown before tonight.  Do you need anything?”

“Just you, babe,” she purrs, messing around with the harness of her chest plate.

“Flirt.”

“You love it.  But no, I’m good.”  Her brow furrows.  “Babe, where are you?  I can barely hear you, is that wind?”

“Oh, uh… they pulled some of the big fans onto the gym floor to let people cool off.  Sorry, I’d go somewhere else but it’s, uh, pretty crowded over here right now.”

“Hmm, whatever.  I’ll see you tonight when you’re all dolled up for me.”  She knows she’s got a stupid idiot grin on her face, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“Pfft, like I’m the only one dolling up.  I saw the suit you picked out.  Oh, but I gotta hop off before I miss my ride.  I’ll text you when I get to Half-Moon tonight, okay?”

“Alright.  I love you, babe.”

Catra can hear the smile in Adora’s voice.  “I love you too.  Bye!”

Rogelio removes his headset when Catra tucks her phone away.  Conveniently, the car comes to a stop shortly after, right outside the front doors of their target.  Catra reattaches her glove and pokes her head between the two front seats.  “This is it, cadets.  Remember your places, move on my signal.”

She pulls the metal mask down over her face.  It’s a fearsome thing, the visage of a snarling jungle cat with three sharp red lines extending across the nose.  It’s an aegis that scares off most who look at it.  Even Rogelio shivers just a little when he meets her gaze.  But that’s good.  Everyone should be afraid when this mask comes on.  “Look alive,” she tells him.  Then, louder, “Masks on.  3, 2, 1…”

The bank is guarded, but not by anyone worth their salary.  Lonnie charges through the doors first, coldcocking the guard on the right and shooting the left one in the leg.  Rogelio pushes his way in after her, lighting up the room with the flash of gunfire.  He aims at the ceiling, causing plaster and tile to rain down from above, and then points his gun at the tellers standing behind the glass.  Kyle remains outside by the car, but his gun is up and ready should it be needed.

Catra, for her part, saunters in like she has all the time in the world.  Her armor clanks a bit when she walks across the pretty marble floors, and every step makes the room flinch.  It’s good, this feeling, this _power_.

“Alrighty, folks,” she says calmly, hearing her own voice snarl through the audio distortion tech in her mask, one of many gifts from Entrapta.  “Here’s how this is going to work.  We’re here to make a little withdrawal.  Don’t strain yourselves, we’ve going with the _self-service_ option today.”  The sound of metal on flesh and more gunshots ring in the background as Lonnie makes short work of the other security personnel and starts moving to the vault.  “So!  If everyone would be so kind as to take out their cellphones, pagers, tablets, walkie talkies, telegraph machines, and crystal balls and toss them right here into the center of the room, and then lay down flat on the floor, we won’t have to make a scene, alright?  **_Do it_**!”  Her command is a roar that makes a woman near her shriek in fear.  One by one, they each take out their phones and do as she commands.

Catra smirks underneath her mask, pleased.

But her smirk slides right off her face when, from behind her, there is a brief scream and a crash of glass, and suddenly Kyle is flying across the room, slamming into the teller counter and collapsing on the floor in a heap.  Catra’s internal groan is loud enough to wake the dead, but though she is loath to do it, she turns around to face the one responsible.

Standing there in the doorway is the last person she wanted to see this morning.  Eight feet tall and lit up like a damn glowstick, blonde hair flowing around her head like a living thing, and that _stupid_ outfit, ugh…

Catra’s lips curl back, and she growls.  _Of course_ , she would show up today, right when Catra most needs things to go right.  She spits out the hateful name that irritates her day and night.  “ _She-Ra_ …” She is met with glowing ice-chip eyes staring coldly back at her.  Her teeth grind.  “ ** _Don’t you have a job?!_** ”

A hard frown settles on that too-angular, too-perfect face she despises.  Her nemesis steps through the shattered entryway, crunching broken glass beneath her pristine white boots.  She’s so ridiculously tall that she has to duck her head slightly to get in.  “Yes, actually, one I would love to return to,” She-Ra bites out.  “But instead, Tigress, I have to be _here_ to make sure you put these people’s money back where you found it.”  She crosses her big fuckoff arms over her chest, staring down at Catra like a pissy school teacher.

Catra snarls, activating the claws in her gloves and preparing to strike.  “’Fraid you’re going to leave disappointed, _princess_.  But I’ll be sure to buy a bouquet for your funeral with these people’s money!”  She leaps, intent on ruining that inhuman face permanently.  She-Ra meets her in midair, and the battle begins in earnest.  Her first strike is blocked by the golden bracer on She-Ra’s left arm, but Catra gets her with the follow-up attack, punching her square in the jaw, hard enough that she feels it crack, hears the sound of it ring in her ears. 

She-Ra isn’t one to be felled so easily, of course, and she rolls with the hit, literally spinning in the air to drive her heel into Catra’s side, denting her armor and sending her hurtling back to the floor.  She hits with stomach-squishing force, and a cacophonous **_bang!_** echoes throughout the bank.  Several people cry out in shock.  She rolls away a second before She-Ra’s fist breaks through the tile next to her, sending shards of marble and dust hurtling into the air.  Catra spins backs around, presses a button on her wrist, and sends spine-like projectiles flying toward She-Ra’s unguarded face.  Her adversary isn’t quite fast enough to avoid them, but they only nick her as they shoot past.

She-Ra tries to grab her by the chest, but Catra expects that.  She lets her get close before grabbing her arm above her bracers and sending enough electricity to kill an elephant through her fingers.  She-Ra cries out and stumbles as her skin burns in Catra’s grip.  Catra uses the opportunity to look back at her team.  Rogelio still has his gun up and pointed at their foe, but his eyes keep flashing to Kyle unconscious just a few feet away.  She sees Lonnie run into view with a duffel bag packed with cash, sees her take aim at She-Ra and fire, but it’s no use.  Normal bullets barely seem to graze the woman’s skin, even on a direct hit.  Lonnie shoots and shoots until her clip is empty, and Catra calls out to her.  “Take the money and run!”  To Rogelio, she shouts “Get him and go!  _Now_!”  She turns her attention back to She-Ra, who is in the process of ripping Catra’s hands off her bicep.  She staggers back to her feet, but grits her too-white teeth in determination as blue light starts to radiate from her hand.  _Shit!_

Catra scrambles to her feet, or tries to, but She-Ra is faster this time, grabbing her with her free hand and chucking her like a discus through the wall and back out onto the streets of Bright Moon.  Catra only has a moment to move as a flash of white, gold, and blue descends on her.  She-Ra’s sword, _that damnable, ridiculous, unbelievable, **FUCK** off sword_, shatters the concrete when it impacts, sending cerulean sparks flying.  Catra is back on her feet instantly, but not quickly enough to stop She-Ra, who starts sprinting toward their getaway van, where Lonnie and Rogelio are struggling to load in the money and Kyle’s unconscious body.  Roaring in frustration, she smashes a button on her boots and blasts off like a rocket, determined to stop She-Ra from reaching her team.  She catches up just as She-Ra reaches Lonnie, who still has the duffel bag.  Catra buries her claws into the hero’s shoulders, as deep as they’ll go, drawing a yelp of pain and surprise from her enemy.  “Go!” She yells at Lonnie, even as She-Ra reaches out and rips the bag from her hands.  Lonnie’s eyes are terrified.  “ ** _Go_**!” Catra screams as she _pulls_ and _rips_ with her claws to drag She-Ra away from her cadet, raking them through the toughened flesh as best she can until the woman’s pretty white clothes are ruined with red.  Lonnie looks at her, stricken, but she follows her orders.  She jumps in the back of the van with Kyle as Rogelio drives, tires screeching and rubber burning as they speed out of sight.

“Give it up, Tigress!” She-Ra spits.  “Your plan has failed!” She reaches behind, grabs Catra, pulls her over her shoulder like she’s pulling a handbag, and slams her down onto the cement with a thunderous crash.

Catra sees stars for a single, seemingly endless moment but blinks them away.  _I’ve got no damn time for that!_   She can feel She-Ra trying to seize her arms to restrain her, and she pulls a maneuver she learned years ago from Adora.  She fights and wiggles until she gets both her legs under that red-stained midsection and activates her rocket boots as she kicks She-Ra full force in the stomach.  It knocks both of them apart, and that’s all Catra needs.  She lets the jet propulsion carry her up into the air, spares one last hateful glance at She-Ra still down on the ground, and then flies off.

 ---------

Her cadets beg her for forgiveness as Scorpia checks her head to make sure she isn’t concussed.  Kyle is awake and concussion-free, but he’s going to be a walking bruise tomorrow, if he can even manage to walk.  Lonnie and Rogelio aren’t physically hurt, but their pride has taken a serious blow.  Catra understands, and she waves off their apologies as unneeded.

“Things like this will happen,” she tells them.  “You can study and prepare and do everything right, and plans can still fail.  And it _fucking_ sucks, but that’s the business.  We all made it out alive, and that’s the most important thing.”

“The boss is right,” Scorpia says as she shines a flashlight in Catra’s mismatched eyes.  “Even before She-Ra showed up, jobs could go south for any number of reasons.  What you need to remember is that no job is worth dying for, not one.  Failing a mission hurts something awful, but you always get yourself and your team out of the line of fire first.”

Lonnie doesn’t quite look convinced.  Catra rests a hand on her shoulder, surprising both of them.  “You did well.  You followed my orders and did what you could.  You’re going to make a fine soldier.”  She looks at Kyle and Rogelio.  “You boys too.  I’m proud of the three of you.”

“Thanks, boss,” Kyle says, brushing a tear from his eyes.  Catra turns back to let Scorpia finish her assessment.

“You’ll be fine, boss.  No sign of head trauma.  You’re going to be a little sore for a couple days, but that’s it.  It’s a good thing ‘Trapta upgraded the cushioning in your suit.  Would’ve been a lot worse without that.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Catra grunts, get up out her chair.  “I still have to go to Half-Moon to make sure that tonight, at least, goes according to plan.”  She looks at Scorpia.  “Did you remind Entrapta what time the party starts?”

Scorpia nods.  “Once this morning and a few minutes ago.  I’ll remind her again in a few hours.  She’ll be ready.”

“Good.”  Catra pulls her suit jacket on and buttons it.  “Text me if anything happens, keep me updated on the situation here.”

“You got it!” Scorpia calls as she walks out the front doors.

 ----------

Preparing her club to host the mayor, city council, and every celebrity in Bright Moon doesn’t cause the same kind of stress as robbing a bank or fighting a supped-up space-Viking princess, but it’s stressful just the same.  Catra coordinates with her troops to set up every kind of spy equipment Entrapta could make for them so that no corner of the building is unmonitored.  It’s a delicate task.  If any of the mayor’s people find them out, they’ll be in for a world of suck.  So Catra personally inspects each device with her crew, and has them double check as the evening draws closer.  The whole purpose of the bank job was to start buzz, not to get money.  Well, the money would have been a nice _bonus_ , but the real goal was always publicity.  Even though the mission was a failure, it was a thrilling spectacle.  Set enough tongues wagging, and you never know what you might hear them say.  Money and guns could keep a criminal syndicate alive for the short-term, but long-term survival came from political favors and blackmail.  Catra’s mother had drilled that into her mind from her early years.  _Don’t be blinded by thoughts of tomorrow and tomorrow, Catra.  You should be thinking of next year and next year and next year, always_.  And Catra despises her mother, but knows good advice when she hears it.

The sun sets and the preparations finish.  Catra schools her crew one last time on how the night needs to go, and then the guests start arriving.  Catra falls into a familiar and comfortable groove playing the dashing, charismatic hostess.  It’s only partially an act; she can be very dashing when she wants to be.

When her phones buzzes, she can’t control the stupid grin that spreads across her face or the butterflies suddenly filling her stomach.  _Just got here, I’m by the doors! <3_  There’s an unmistakable sway in her hips as she walks towards the club entrance.  Her toes curl just a bit in her shoes, because Adora is wearing _that_ dress and Catra is already two seconds away from dragging her to a back room and ripping it off.  Her gorgeous blonde hair is down tonight, framing her pretty face and neck.  Her smile is dizzying when she sees Catra coming toward her.  Catra wraps one arm around her waist and tugs Adora right against her body.  She catches those pretty red lips between her teeth as Adora giggles into her mouth. 

Catra presses a kiss to her lover’s jaw, but pulls back when her breath hisses through her teeth.  “What’s wrong?”

Adora’s face is pinched, but she smiles sheepishly.  “It’s nothing, just a bruise from my brown-belt class today.”

Catra frowns, touching the spot very gently with her fingertips, finally noticing the discoloration that had been masked by the club’s lighting.  “Are you okay?  Will you be alright to stay for the party?  I’ll take you home if you need me to.”

Adora kisses her cheek fondly and shakes her head.  “No, I’ll be fine.  They just got a few knocks on me in sparring.  Don’t worry, I gave as good as I got!”  _God she’s beautiful when she laughs_.

Catra smiles, knowing her heart is in her eyes.  “I have no doubt that you did, love.”


	2. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna scream, I just wanna explode. I, I just wanna let go...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains very graphic depictions of violence and bodily injury. There is also brief mention of suicidal thoughts. Please be advised.

_Six months later_

Catra could honestly kiss Entrapta if she didn’t have a girl at home.  That little genius has finally given her exactly what she needs to get what she’s wanted for years.  She can’t help but laugh, just a little, as she cracks her newly improved titanium fists against She-Ra’s face.  She watches with spiteful glee as the other woman flies backward several feet, hitting the gravel rooftop with a pained groan, blood gushing from her freshly broken nose.  She’s already soaked from a dozen or more weeping lacerations scattered across her body, and Catra hasn’t broken a sweat yet.

It took six months of experimentation, six months of 2am fire alarms, and six months of hard-earned income to accomplish, but she _finally_ has the weapon that will dispose of this sword-swinging bitch once and for all.

_And what a nifty weapon it is_ , she thinks as She-Ra struggles to even stand.  A funky little virus of Entrapta’s own design, made-to-order, transmitted through a single simple injection.  The scientist had described like a computer bug that wreaked havoc on the mainframe and screwed the entire system, She-Ra’s body in this case.

_“So it will disable her powers?”_

_“Not exactly, but it will make them weaker to a statistically significant degree!  And it will dramatically delay the onset of her incredible healing factor!  Oh, speaking of, is there any chance you can grab me a sample from her?  For curiosity’s sake.”_

Catra doesn’t know or care about all the specifics.  But she does know the virus works beautifully.  She bets the oh-so-mighty hero isn’t feeling so cocky now, when she can barely stay up let alone avoid Catra’s vicious attacks.

“I gotta say, girl, you don’t look so good,” she taunts, affecting fake concern as she lazily strolls forward.  She-Ra throws a punch, or tries to.  She’s much slower now.  Surely on a different day her attack would be picture-perfect, but tonight Catra dodges the blow with ease and catches the wrist that flies past her face.  She twists it harshly while her other hand strikes at the hero’s vulnerable elbow.  It gives way with a wet _crack_ and a scream.  It’s very satisfying.  A jet-boosted shin kick to the stomach makes the bitch double over and fall to her knees, wheezing.  It’s delightful, really.

Catra tuts, lets go of her arm, and steps behind her, grabbing her by the chin hard enough to drive freshly sharpened claws into her cheeks.  “You’re way off your game.  Punching is, like, the one thing you’re good at, or so I thought.”  She-Ra struggles, pulling at Catra’s hand with her good arm, but only succeeds at pulling the talons further down her face.  “Have you always been this _weak_ underneath the stupid tiara and the butchy chest plate?  Have I really been punching down this whole time?  I don’t think I even need this suit to finish you!”  She puts both of her hands on the defenseless back of her greatest enemy, lets them rest there for a single savory moment before she shreds clean through white fabric and flesh and muscle, repeatedly, deeper and deeper each time until she can feel bone just a few centimeters beneath her fingertips.  There’s no scream this time, which is a little disappointing, but she’ll imagine the pain is just too much to be vocalized.  Her fingers drip sweet crimson when she pulls them out.  Hmm, maybe she’ll take some of it back for Entrapta’s “sample”.

“T… Tigress… _please_ …”

Catra’s ears perk up.  “ _What_ was that?”  She-Ra doesn’t answer, only pants roughly.  “Hey.   _Hey_!” She says, stepping back to the front and bending down to force the other woman’s head up, smearing more blood on her cheeks in the process.  “What did you say?”

“Tigress…”

“Are you _begging_ me?”  She can’t help but laugh.  This is all just so… _dramatique_.  They’re even right near the edge of the rooftop with the sunset and city lights twinkling in the background.  _You could make a comic cover out of this_.

“You don’t want to do this…”

She scoffs.  “Oh _honey,_ please, I _definitely_ want to do this.  You have no idea how much.  But please, make it even sweeter for me!  What’s next?  Are you gonna tell me you have a wife and kid at home?  Are you two days from retirement?  Or are you gonna give me those sad blue eyes and tell me how I’ll never be able to come back from this, that _my soul will never clean again if I commit this black deed ooooooooo_? 

“Seriously though, come on… we both know how this is gonna end, princess.  Now, you don’t _have_ to die with dignity but for your sake I’d hope you at least try.”  She lets the woman’s chin drop from her hand and straightens up, crossing her arms over her chest.  “If you say something cool, I’ll tell people it was your last words.”

She waits, but her victim now seems resigned to silence.  “Nothing?”  Nothing.  She shrugs, raises a hand to make the killing blow.  “Your choice.”

The blare of a siren and the _powpow, bratatat_ of gunfire catches her off guard.  She’d let herself get caught up in the moment, but the bullets pinging against her armor pull her back to the suddenly much less awesome reality of the situation.  She turns, hissing, to peer over the edge of the roof facing the street below.  Ugh, there must be 15 cops down there, and 6 more on top of the building across the road, all of them taking shots at her.  _Bastards, this paint job wasn’t cheap, ya know?_

When she turns away from the distraction, She-Ra has vanished.  There’s nothing but blood and tatters of ruined white cloth where she had been kneeling.  Catra frowns and peers over the other edge, one that overlooks a dank, empty alleyway.  She can see more blood on the asphalt, but her prey is gone.

 

Catra strolls down the sidewalk toward her and Adora’s apartment, hands in the pockets of her dark pinstripe pants and a smirk practically etched onto her face.  Last minute interruption aside, tonight had been very pleasurable for her, and she knows it’s going to get even better.  The night is cool, and the air feels softs as a kiss on her skin.  She walks up through the front entrance, nodding cheerfully to the doorman before heading to the elevator.  While she watches the floor number rise and rise, she fingers the little velvet box tucked safely in her pocket, an important purchase made earlier in the day.  Tonight is about to get _so much better_. 

She checks her watch.  Adora’s last class should have ended a few hours ago, and she should already be home.  She hasn’t answered her phone, but Catra isn’t worried.  She’s been with Adora long enough to know no one in the world forgets to answer their texts as often as her girlfriend.

Their floor is quiet when she steps out of the elevator.  Most of their neighbors either go out on nights like this or never leave, so she hardly ever sees them at this hour.  Unexpectedly, hers and Adora’s door is locked, but she fishes out her keys and gets it open with ease.

It’s dark inside, no lights save for the one in the kitchen.  Weird…  She wonders if Adora started having head pain and needed things to be less bright.  They’re infrequent, but Adora overworks a lot and is prone to stress headaches when she does.  _I’ll make her some of that weird tea she likes_ , Catra thinks, nodding to herself. 

“Adora?”  She steps inside and shuts the door behind her.  No response.  She frowns.  She’s about to turn on the living room light when she hears the window break.  She stills, her hand slowly pulling back from the light switch as she turns her body soundlessly.  The breaking sound seemed to come from the window opposite the kitchen, near their bedroom door.  She takes a single, silent step forward, trying to get a better view without giving her position away.  Her hands clench and unclench, and she lowers into a more predatory stance.  If she gets to beat down a burglar in her home tonight, it might almost make up for not getting She-Ra.

She hears a thud and a clatter, followed by a pained whine.  She freezes in place, still hidden in the shadows, waiting, when…

There, in front of her, red-stained hands grabbing clumsily for the edge of the dining table, is She-Ra.  Her face is still a wreck from their fight.  In fact, it seems that Entrapta’s virus worked even better than expected, because She-Ra doesn’t look healed _at all_.  Her broken nose and cut cheeks are still sluggishly bleeding, as are the wounds on her back and sides.  Her legs are dirty and covered in scrapes, and her left arm is cradled against her chest, unmoving.  She tries to pull herself up, only to accidentally upend the table and send it crashing to the floor.  She-Ra hits the floor right after it, crying out and curling up on her side, clutching her broken arm with tears streaming down her face, mixing with the blood and dirt and sweat.

But why is she…?  How is she here?  She doesn’t… she’s no…

Catra’s jaw drops, her throat constricts.  It feels like she’s being strangled; she can’t seem to take in any air.  Her hands are shaking.  She digs her nails into her palms but it does nothing.  This can’t be real.  _Itcan’tItcan’t **Itcan’t**_ …  There’s no way.  She… she would have known, wouldn’t she?  She would have seen the signs, _clues_ everywhere, she would’ve…

_This isn’t happening.  It’s not_.  She-Ra isn’t… _Adora_ isn’t… no… _nonononono **nononONO**_!

But the ethereal glow is fading from She-Ra’s skin, and her features are softening into a face that is intimately familiar.  And Catra wants to rip her own heart out; surely that would be less painful than what she feels right now.  Surely there can’t be anything worse than _this_.

She doesn’t know that she’s moving at first.  It isn’t until the floor creaks beneath her feet that she realizes she is walking forward.  Blue eyes, She-Ra’s eyes, **_Adora’s_** eyes, snap up to meet hers.  They are terrified.  Catra could throw herself out the broken window, and at least her death would be fast.  _Anything_ would be better than this.

“C-Catra?” Adora’s voice is rough from crying, tremulous.  Catra can’t do anything else but step fully into the light of kitchen, letting it illuminate her stunned face.  And still, even through the pain of her torn up face, Adora smiles, her relief evident.  She _relaxes_ on the floor, reaching with her good hand outward to her girlfriend.  “ _Catra_ …” She coughs roughly and her next breath is gurgling.  _Can she not breathe properly?_   Catra doesn’t remember breaking any of her ribs… _Could the fall have_ …  “Catra,” Adora repeats.  “Babe, I’d love a little help here…”

She helps her.  Adora’s face rests against her neck as Catra embraces her with trembling arms, helping her sit up.  She doesn’t say anything, _can’t_ , but her love doesn’t seem to mind.  It’s a struggle to move over to the sofa.  Adora is still mostly She-Ra, and her size and density reflect that.  But Catra helps her rest against the edge of the couch.  She winces and turns her body to the side so nothing is pressed against her destroyed back.  Catra can see the dark blood as it oozes from the wounds, rolling down her lover’s skin.  It’s sickening.  Hells, she might hurl right on the nice hardwood floor.

Adora is holding her hand, squeezing it, trying to _comfort_ Catra.  Comfort _Catra_ , it’s!  It’s… unconscionable, sadistic!  Her entire life is burning before her eyes and the universe is **_laughing_**.

“---think the first aid kit is still on the bottom of the linen closet.”  Adora is talking, but Catra only catches the last sentence.  She swallows, getting up on unsteady feet, and makes her way to the linen closet.

Their first aid kit is big, filled to the brim with every kind of tool, bandage, tape, and antiseptic available; tourniquets and joint braces, heating packs, pliers, tweezers, ACE wrap in six different colors, Scooby Doo band-aids.  Adora had insisted on it when they moved in together.  At the time, Catra had thought it was just so Adora could patch herself up after teaching her classes.  _Fucking Eternia’s sake_ …

Adora’s eyes are closed when Catra returns, and her heart stutters in her chest.  The world starts to collapse in on itself, already scorched and crumbling.  But then those gray-blue eyes open again as she gets closer, and her lover’s expression is apologetic.

“I just wanted to shut my eyes for a minute.  Who knew nearly dying could be so exhausting, eh?”  The joke doesn’t so much land flat as land like a knife in the foot.

Catra bears her teeth, grinding them against each other.  Her fist is so tight it might crack the plastic handle on the kit.  “ _Don’t_ say something like that.”  Her voice breaks as she finally speaks, and Adora sobers instantly.

“Sorry, love.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Catra ignores the apology.  “We need to dress your…” _Crippling, life-threatening wounds that **I** gave you?_ “…injuries”.

Adora is compliant, saying little else as Catra opens the kit and starts working on the worst of it.  Her fingers still quiver when she presses an alcohol-soaked rag against the cuts and scrapes and sets the broken nose.  Adora winces but makes no sound, even when it’s time to clean her back.  It’s almost too much for Catra.  She tries to focus on breathing normally but feels faint regardless.  There’s so much blood…

_Bandages, bandages_ , she repeats in her head, like a chant.  _Don’t look at the muscle peeking through.  Just get the bandages_.  Should they go to a hospital?  _Can_ they go to a hospital?  What would that even look like?  Absurd, but… “I can call an ambulance,” she offers, knowing Adora’s response before the words even leave her mouth.

She shakes her head, sighs.  “No, it wouldn’t be worth it,” she says, trying for cheerful unconcern.  “Besides, I think I can feel my healing kicking in.  I’ll be ship-shape in no time!”

Adora doesn’t see it with her back turned away, but Catra is crying.  It’s pathetic, shameful, but the tears roll down her face anyway.  She presses two large sterile pads to Adora’s back and then wraps green bandages around until the area is completely covered.  _It’s not enough_.  _It has to be enough_.

The last thing to deal with is the arm.  Adora shivers when Catra touches it.  Catra shivers too, because the limb feels like a sock full of marbles and toothpaste.  She thought she’d only broken it once.  There’s a rudimentary sling included in the kit, not what’s needed but close enough.  She’s struggling to put it on correctly when she feels a hand against her cheek.

Adora is smiling at her again as her thumb wipes away tear tracks.  It’s awful.  Catra leans into her touch, powerless not to, and meets the woman’s gaze.  Her mouth opens, but the words are hesitant to leave.  Fighting with them is harder than fighting with the arm sling.

“Why… didn’t you tell me?”

Adora looks surprised by the question, but she doesn’t shy away from it like Catra half expects.  “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t really know?”  She sighs heavily and leans her head back against the couch cushion.  “I guess… I just thought… I don’t know what I thought.  I suppose when it started, I didn’t know who I could trust.  Getting fantastical superpowers out of the blue makes you reevaluate a lot of things, your relationships included.  I never told anyone.  And I suppose I didn’t want to put that on you, the burden, the stress, the risk.”  She chuckles sadly and it turns into a breathless cough.  “I wanted to protect you.  Just like I always do, right?  It’s dumb.  I know you can handle yourself, but I just couldn’t stop… so I didn’t say anything.”  She blinks back more tears from her red-rimmed eyes.  “I should have known it couldn’t last.”

“No, it couldn’t,” Catra agrees quietly.  After another minute, spent in silence, she finally gets the sling on straight.  Adora takes Catra’s hand and presses her lips to the knuckles.

“Thank you, Catra,” she says.  “You always make this better.”

Catra can’t respond to that, so she makes an excuse instead.  “I’m going to go put the kit away, and I’ll get you some water.”  She piles the contents of the kit back inside haphazardly before leaving the room as quickly as she can without running.  In their little kitchen area, she grips the edge of the counter, her fingers turning white with the effort.  Her mind is racing a thousand miles a second in a dozen different directions.  What is she going to do about this?  What’s she going to tell her people?  She should tell them, shouldn’t she?  Her loyal soldiers, they work so hard for her and she owes them so much… She-Ra is their enemy, the biggest threat to their lives and the business.

The worst thought crosses her mind at that moment.  A whisper in a voice that sounds too much like her mother, and its words are black and hateful.  _Destroy your enemies wherever they appear, no matter what face they wear.  Kill without mercy, before they kill you_.

She could do it.  She knows how.  She… she could make it fast.  No pain, no nothing, she could kill---

_Adora…_ Adora who has always been there, who has never judged her, who has stood by her and loved her through every horrible thing she’s endured for years.  This is **_Adora_** , the woman she loves more than anything, than power, money, even her own life for _fuck’s_ sake.

Catra’s knees give way and she slides down to the cold tile floor.  She clutches her stomach and finally gives into to the urge to vomit.  It’s hardly anything, mostly dry heaves; she hasn’t eaten since lunch 9 hours and one lifetime ago.  But with the bile goes that putrid, wretched idea.  It leaves her feeling oddly helpless when it’s gone.

“Catra?”  Adora is calling out for her, sweetly, appallingly innocent.  “Is everything alright?”

Catra’s answer is mechanical.  “Everything is fine.”  Her throat is sore.

At that moment, facing the crippling emptiness of her spirit, she makes a decision.  She doesn’t know if it’s a good decision, or if it will even work, but she makes it.  She can’t think of many other choices.  There’s a bottle of pills in their medicine cupboard, one neither of them has touched in months or more.  She-Ra’s body is still vulnerable, like Adora’s.  It can work, and then she’ll… she’ll…

Figure the rest out later.

She forgoes water, picking apple juice instead, better to mask the taste.  When Adora sees the glass in her hand, she smiles gratefully and drinks it all down without thinking twice.  “Thank you, love,” she says, setting the glass on the coffee table.  Then she takes Catra’s hand again and simply holds it, running her thumb across her fingers.  She laughs softly, still a little breathless.  “You know, you’re taking this a lot better than I think I expected.”

“Mm.”  Catra sits next to the love of her life and waits.  Adora is happy with this, resting her heavy head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, blissfully unaware.

Catra waits.  And when Adora’s soft pants even out, becoming slow and deep, she acts.


	3. Sunflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the Sunflower, I think your love would be too much.

She met Adora in middle school, 6th grade to be exact.  She had been paired with Catra for a math worksheet on their fourth day of school.  Catra had been a bit of an obnoxious punk at the time, she can admit that now.  But Adora had been unfazed by her hawkishness, smiling brightly at Catra’s scowls and ignoring her bad attitude.  She treated her in a way no one really had before, with friendliness and a genuine desire for closeness.  They bonded over Catra’s mother and Adora’s shitty foster parents, trading stories and secrets with an honesty that both were unfamiliar with.  Catra hadn’t a clue what to make of Adora at the time, but when the openness and kindness didn’t stop as it had so often in the past, she finally started to get it.

Adora is a good person, a genuine, caring girl who’s always eager to help others if she’s able to.  She never turns away from suffering or injustice, instead always searching for some way to fix things.  Even when she messes up, she just tries to be better.  She tries and tries and tries and never considers quitting even when it’s the obviously smart move.

Catra isn’t like that.  She’s never been a good person, no matter what Adora might say, and she doesn’t claim to be.  Catra is her mother’s daughter, and she _hates_ that more than anything.  She grew up knowing that the world was just a gaping maw filled with saw-blade teeth waiting for you to fall into it.  She was determined to _never_ fall.  Was determined.

She was 23 when she took the role of Boss from her mother, who had decided to retire on the sunny private islands of Salineas with little more than a note to her daughter.  Catra had stepped up to the plate, and with a little help, managed not only to keep the Horde functioning but took them to new heights her mother had been too cautious to reach for.  Adora was finishing her certifications to be a personal trainer at the time.  Catra signed the papers to purchase Half-Moon on the same day as their two-year anniversary, in fact shortly before she left to meet Adora for their dinner reservation.  She-Ra was sighted stopping a mugging five days later, her first public appearance.

Their first confrontation wasn’t until a full year after that, with Catra lumbering around in a roughshod prototype of her Tigress armor, the first design Entrapta had made for her.  It ended with Catra in the hospital lying to the doctors that her broken wrist and shoulder-to-ankle bruising were from a bad fall.  Adora had been so worried, keeping her virtually on house arrest until she was healed.  10 short months after that was their most destructive battle to date, which saw the two of them demolishing a condemned parking garage.  Literally.  They tackled each other through the concrete support beams and barely escaped before the structure collapsed on top of them.  But Adora took a flight to Plumeria early the next morning, and they didn’t see each other until a full week after their injuries were healed.

She tries to think of _how many times_ they came close to discovering the truth.  How many times did the façade nearly fall away?  How long have they been dancing a jig on this tightrope of mutual anonymity?

“Boss?”

It’s enough to make your head explode, thinking about it.  Was Adora lying every time she said she got hurt “in sparring”?  Just like Catra lied about “breaking up bar fights” at Half-Moon?

“Boss.”

And what about all the nights when Adora was the one getting home at weird hours instead of Catra?  She’s never had reason to question those before.  Was Adora just wandering the city as She-Ra looking for crimes to thwart?  Was she jumping across rooftops and punching burglars in the face every time she failed to answer Catra’s calls?

“Catra!”

She jumps, she’ll admit it.  She’ll also admit that she probably looks a little deranged when she meets Scorpia’s concerned expression.  “What is it?” Her voice is cutting, harsh.  It shouldn’t be, this isn’t Scorpia’s fault.  But Catra’s on edge, _hanging_ from the edge more like, and her self-control is wavering.

“We’ve put the prisoner where you asked.  She’s secure,” Scorpia says, her own tone carefully neutral.  Scorpia is well-experienced in handling her sharp edges and sandpaper moods.  Catra would feel shame about that, if she could even contain any more negative emotions right now.

That being said, she softens her next words.  “Thank you for doing that.”

Scorpia smiles at her, like she understands.  “It’s no problem, boss.”  She reaches out to rest a hand on Catra’s shoulder, squeezing it.  “I’ll be right down the hall,” she says, and the words are weighted with meaning that Catra can’t process right now, so she doesn’t.  Scorpia walks away, and she is left alone to deal with herself, a hideous and frightful predicament.

She runs a careless hand through her hair.  It catches in tangles from the battle she hasn’t had time to brush out.  Her hairbrush is still back at the apartment.  _Shit, what the hell is she going to do about the apartment?_   There’s still blood and puke and broken glass and overturned furniture.  The place is a damn wreck; are they going to lose their deposit?  What if someone calls the cops to the building because they heard the window break?  Should she send soldiers to watch the place, rough up anyone who starts making noise?  A memory of Adora, smiling in amusement, flashes through her mind.  _We’ve only just moved in, babe, don’t scare the neighbors._

“Fuck…” She digs her nails into her arm, _hard_.  “Snap out of it!  You’ve got shit to do.”  She stares down the long, sterile white hallway to the dark wooden door at the very end.  She winces, and looks away again.  _Call Entrapta first.  That’s what matters now_.

She gets out her phone, walking further and further away from that door until she’s found a quiet enough place to think.  She dials.

“Hi boss!”  That’s Entrapta for you, cheerful as always.  “I heard you captured She-Ra, good job!  Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was reeeeally hoping you wouldn’t actually kill her.  Would you let me take---?”

Catra cuts her off before she can, doubtless, ask to collect samples from Adora.  “ _Entrapta_ ,” she says firmly.  “I need some information about that virus you made.”  Her voice is steadier than she is.  It’s acceptable.  She’ll take fake composure over nothing any day.

“Oh?  Sure, what would you like to know?”

“Is it temporary?  That is, will its effects wear off eventually?”

“Hmm, yes,” Entrapta says, sounding a little sheepish.  “Sadly, it only _delays_ her healing factor like I said before.  She-Ra’s immune system will eventually eradicate the infection.  If I knew more about her powers I could probably improve it but…”

“ _No_.”  It’s half a shout, and she smacks a hand against her forehead, the way her mother might have done when Catra was a kid.  “I mean, don’t worry about that now.  How long until the effects wear off?”

She hears the bustle of a rolling desk chair and some soft button clicking as though from something small, a calculator perhaps.  “Well… given the time of initial infection, the virus’s specialized antigens, and She-Ra’s especially effective immune response, oh the things I’d give to be able to study her unique immunoglobulins and _amazing_ T cytotoxic cells…”

“ _The point_ ,” Catra says, resisting the urge to snap again.

“Oh, sorry!  Her body should already be neutralizing the infection.  I’d say she’ll be back to her full strength in just under three hours.  Though her injuries won’t fully heal for approximately five hours.  We… might want to do something about her before then,” she adds.

“Thanks, Entrapta.”  She hangs up without another word.  She can’t help but bask in the feeling of a thousand-ton weight being lifted off her chest.  The virus is temporary.  Adora will live.  Adora will heal.  There’s still hop---

But she cuts that thought off.  This situation is still much too hellish and catastrophic to consider such things now.

She stands, as steadily as she can, tucking her phone in her pocket.  She ignores, ignores, _ignores_ that little box, even though it feels like it’s going to burn through her leg.  There is no time for any of that, none of it.  She’s let herself be far too much a coward tonight, but no more.  It’s time.

 

Well, she says it’s time, but it still takes upwards of fifteen minutes to psyche herself up.  She’s back in that hallway again, and she’s forcing herself to take deep breaths, think calm thoughts and all that.  It’s… well, it’s not doing shit, quite frankly, but she keeps trying.

Adora is chained up in Catra’s secondary office.  She couldn’t bear to order her placed in the cells beneath the base.  So, she’s in the office, behind that dark door, bound to a metal chair that they hastily bolted to the floor upon arrival.  Her broken arm, still immobile, is free.  Catra trusts Entrapta’s words about the virus’s effects fading, but she could never live with herself if she knowingly put the _love of her life_ in such a painful position for no reason.

Her hand shakes as it goes to grip the door knob.  She’s already on the verge of losing it again, breathing exercises be damned, and this is the best she can do to contain the frantic energy radiating outward from her pounding heart.  The mask is on because… because _she doesn’t know why_ , it just is.  Wearing it has never felt so suffocating, so claustrophobic.

If she lets her vision go unfocused, she can see the glowing red eyes of the Tigress glaring back at her.  They make demands of her, give orders.  They tell her to _destroy the enemy_.  She blinks, swallows.  She opens the door and steps inside.

Adora is awake, groggy but conscious.  Those big gray-blue eyes latch onto her immediately and _glare_ , doing their level best to kill Catra where she stands.  She almost walks out again.

“ _Tigress_ ,” Adora snaps, in a pretty good impression of a real tiger, Catra notes absently.  “What have you done this time?  Where is Catra?”  Hearing her own name has never filled her with such dread, not even from the lips of her wretched mother.  Catra trembles with it, as the knot in her throat threatens to asphyxiate her.  “I swear to Eternia, Tigress, if you’ve hurt her…”

She can’t do it.  Five seconds is all it takes for her resolve to break.  There’s no calming thoughts or fake composure left to muster.  She can’t do this.  Her fingers are clumsy as they disengage her helmet.  It takes two tries, but she removes it and holds it in her hands for a long moment.  She stares at the beast’s face because it’s honestly the easiest place to look.  Then, she lets it drop to the floor with a heavy _clunk_.  And there is silence.

She isn’t sure, exactly, how many seconds pass before she can summon what’s left of her threadbare courage and finally meet her lover’s stare.  But she does meet it, only to immediately wish she hadn’t.

Because the shock on Adora’s face nearly drives Catra to claw her own eyes out, just to distract from the burning, twisting, tearing sensation in her chest.

“Catra?”

She shudders.  Hearing the confusion and almost childlike astonishment in Adora’s voice isn’t dissimilar from being drowned in ice water.  Catra knows.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s me,” she says, and every word is a battle.  She desperately needs to do something with her hands, lest their trembling set her entire body vibrating.  She shoves them in her pockets.

“What is…?  Why are you here?”  She watches Adora’s mouth to avoid looking in her eyes again.  That pretty jaw moves up and down as her love flounders.  She wonders if the truth is putting her world in an incinerator the way it did for Catra.

“Because I brought you here,” Catra says.  The words sound absurd.  _Brought?_   Kidnapped, more like, the dictionary definition of _abduction_.  Gods, she’s such a bastard.  The feelings well up in her chest; stupidity, guilt, fear.  She doesn’t want this.  “I own this place.  I’m the leader here.”

“I don’t understand.”

Unexpectedly, Catra laughs.  It isn’t the slightest bit funny, except in the cosmic sense of course, but this situation is so royally fucked that she can hardly respond any other way.  “Y- _you_ don’t understand?  It seems pretty obvious to me!”  She feels crazy.  Fresh tears burn her eyes and she roughly rubs them away.  “It’s crystal _fucking_ clear.”  She knows the break coming, she’s right at the edge of it.

Adora swallows.  “Catra,” she says carefully.  “What is this?”

Catra snorts, a bitter noise.  “What, this?”  She indicates the room.  “Or this?” She points at herself, Adora, and the ocean’s worth of shit that now stands between them.  “This,” she says to the room at large, manic, “is a base in my sprawling criminal enterprise.  And _this_ ,” her voice breaks as she turns back.  “Is my life falling apart right in front of me.  Do you get it now?”

“Catra…”

“I mean, Eternia’s sake, we must be living in a tv show, right?  It’s all working out so dramatically.  This is the moment when I get my poetic comeuppance for my misdeeds.  **_My fucking karma!_** ”  She kicks the helmet at her feet and sends it flying into the opposite wall with a _bang_!  “ _Isn’t it?_ ” She whispers, the mania and rage gone as quickly as they arrived, leaving her cold.

“ _Catra_.”  _Is she angry?_   It’s hard to tell.  Adora’s always had this teacher’s expression, stern and unyielding but enigmatic.  Catra thinks it must work wonders on her students, and she does _not_ like that it’s being directed at her now.  “Explain this to me.”

Catra releases a shaky exhale.  “There _really_ isn’t that much to explain, Adora.”

“ _I_ will be the judge of that.” 

“Fine, fine.  I’m… Tigress.  It’s me.  It’s been me from the start.”

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

Catra blinks.  Um… “What do you mean how?”

Adora frowns deeply.  Oh, _now_ she’s angry.  “I mean, how is it that you, Catra, my girlfriend, are the…” she huffs incredulously.  “ _Leader_ of a bloodthirsty crime syndicate that’s been terrorizing Bright Moon for years?  How is that possible?”

She bristles at that, she really does.  _Bloodthirsty?_   It’s not that she ignores or is oblivious to the dark nature of her work, far from it, but it also isn’t as though she’s sending people to shoot up pre-schools.  Adora is making it sound like she regularly orders her soldiers to drown puppies or something.

“How do you think, Adora?  It was forced on me.  You know my heartless bitch of a mother, what do you think _she_ did for a living?”

“I knew she was a monster but I didn’t think you’d ever follow in her footsteps!”

Catra recoils.  “Follow in her… How _dare_ you!” How could she say something like that?  She bares her teeth like some kind of animal.  Like a Tigress.  “I didn’t _choose_ this, Adora, I was born into it!  And things are a damn sight better now than they ever were under her!”

“ _Better?_ Catra, you’ve got the whole city terrified!”

“And why shouldn’t they be?”  Catra retorts.  “If they’re scared, then they won’t get in the way and get hurt.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re taking from that?”  She rolls her eyes so hard she might injure her neck.  “Not only that, but you’re taking kids off the streets and turning them into weapons!”

“You make it sound like I’m conscripting them!  I offered them food, shelter, and security in exchange for work, and all of them had the choice to say no.  They said yes.  I gave them a _job_.”

“It is not the same thing, Catra, and you know it!”  She looks over at the mask where it sits on the far side of the room.  “And _that_ ,” she practically spits.  “Did you have someone build that suit just so you could fight me?”

“I didn’t know it was you!”

“Regardless, you went to the trouble of building that monstrosity just to protect yourself from the consequences of your crimes.  And then you kidnap me from _our home_ and drag me to wherever the hell this is, and I don’t even _know_ how you managed that, I mean, what was it?  Did you hit me?  No, it couldn’t have been that…” A moment of furious thought.  “Was it the apple juice?  Gods, did you _drug_ me?”

“ ** _Yes!_**   Alright, yes, I did all of that!  Is that what you want to hear?”  Catra throws her hands up into the air.  “What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”

“Well, you could have told me the truth, for one thing!”  Adora snaps.

“Oh really?  Oh _really_?  And how would you have reacted any differently if I told you then what I’ve told you now?”

“ ** _I would have forgiven you!_** ”

The words are so unexpected they leave her dumbstruck.  “W-what?”

Adora’s sigh is sharp with _frustration_ , of all things.  Some of the anger fades from her face, replaced by grief.  The raw emotion contorts her face, and now there are new tears in her lovely eyes.  “I would have forgiven you.  Of course I would.  I _love_ you, I would have helped you, we could have…” she casts her gaze wildly around the room.  “No, I still can.”  She looks at Catra imploringly.  “Catra, _please_ , let me go.  We can still fix this.”

“Fix this?” Eternia, she sounds so stupid right now.  “How?”

“Let me go,” Adora pleads softly, her voice shaking.  “And we can both get out of here.  _Please, love_.  I forgive you, just let me out of these chains so we can go _home_.”

“You forgive me…”  Her hands move almost of their own accord, reaching, reaching out to cup Adora’s face so gently, like they’ve never done it before.  Like maybe they never will again.  Adora, for her part, leans into Catra’s touch, watching her all the while.

There’s too much blood in the kiss; blood and salt.  They coat her tongue, but she just pushes closer.  She needs this like an addict, and she knows Adora is just the same by how fervently she reciprocates.  It doesn’t last long enough, not nearly long enough, but Adora compensates by pressing her lips to Catra’s chin, letting them linger there warmly, the sweetest balm.

Being close to Adora like this, Catra can see it all behind her eyelids.  She can see the idyllic future promised by Adora’s words and lips and eyes and warmth.  She sees them cleaning up their apartment, putting all of this bullshit behind them.  She sees herself going legit and buying them a house out in the Whispering Woods with clean money.  One kid, two dogs, a cat… school tuition and soccer games… rocking chairs and a picket fence, birthdays, milestones, anniversaries, and growing old.  She can see all of it.  She wants it so badly that the need might just kill her.

But then her vision darkens until she can’t see any of those things.  Instead, it’s the betrayal on the faces of her soldiers, their hurt and anger and _fear_ as she abandons them.  All those people, her people, who rely on her leadership and who have served her faithfully all this time.  Catra’s never cared much for duty or honor and other such nebulous concepts, but she does care about _her people_.  She can’t leave… she can’t do something like that to them.

Adora is whispering such tender things against her skin, reassurances and affirmations she can only partially comprehend.  It’s enticement, temptation.  It makes her hope, and that’s honestly the worst thing.

_“You know what they say about hope.”_ Her mother’s words, words that were never directed at Catra but that sting her with the same ferocity.

“Maybe… maybe.”  She pulls back just a bit because she won’t be able to think with Adora kissing her.  Her eyes linger, because of course they do, on her lover’s achingly familiar mouth, seeing where the blood has smeared.  She wonders if her lips and chin are red.  “Maybe,” she repeats, reaching for the last possibility there is for them, as far as she sees it.  Catra is sure she sounds like she’s begging; hell, she _is_ begging.  “You stay.  Here with me, you stay,” she says.  She touches Adora’s face, traces her bone structure with tentative fingers.  “You can help me, help us.  We-we can be better, I know it.  They aren’t bad people, Adora, really.  If you stayed, you could make them better, like you made _me_ better.  _Please_.”  It can happen.  She knows they can do it.  _She can do anything with Adora at her side_.

Her plea hangs in the air.  They are so close, just inches apart.  She _wills_ that the words will reach from her heart to Adora’s.  Such a small space to cross, _surely_ they will.  Surely…

“Catra.” Adora says her name like it’s ripping her up inside.  “Catra… you know I can’t do that.”

Oh.

_“It breeds eternal misery.”_

Adora doesn’t pull away from her touch, but what need is there of that when her words have put the bloody continent between them.

Slowly, Catra straightens.  Her hands fall away.  “Ah,” she whispers.  Her voice sounds dead, even to her own ears.  “I see.”  Well… in that case…

“Catra?  What are you doing?”  She walks across the room to pick up the mask.  “Catra, unlock these chains.”  There’s desperation now, no more authoritative façade.  “Catra!”

“No.”

“What?”

Her fingers tighten around the helmet until they ache.  Louder, she repeats, “I said _no_.”

“Catra, you can’t just keep me here, let me go!”

“ ** _No!_** ”  It’s a roar, a shout that’s almost inhuman.  She’s quivering with anger, with fury and desolation that light her blood on fire.  She turns back to Adora with thunder in her chest.  “I am not letting you go!  _I am not helping you abandon me!_ ”

“Catra!” Adora cries.  “That’s not what this is!  Please, stop!  You’re not thinking---”

“Get comfortable, Adora,” she snarls as she turns away.  “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“ _Catra!_ ”  She ignores the call, and storms out of the room.

 

The dark wooden door slams shut behind her, and she wastes no time stalking back down the hallway, as fast as she dares without running.  There’s a scream in her throat begging to be released; it vibrates her frame with its intensity.  Her head is spinning.  _Right down into hell_ , she thinks.

Her footsteps are embarrassingly loud, but there’s little she can do about it.  She has to get away, doesn’t matter where, just as long as it’s _far_ away from that room and that **_infuriating, traitorous, heart-stabbing_** woman.  She keeps walking without paying much attention to her exact surroundings, which is, well, dumb, as she soon discovers when she slams face first into someone’s broad back.

Cursing and clutching her throbbing nose, she steps back, squinting up at the person she just smashed into.

“Oh, hi boss!” _Scorpia_.  Of course.  Who else?

She sighs.  “Scorpia.”

Her lieutenant is looking at her closely.  It gives Catra a bad feeling.  “What?”

“Hmm?  Oh, nothing.”  _Liar!_   “You know, boss, if you aren’t busy right now, why don’t you come with me to visit Entrapta?”

It’s framed as a question, a suggestion, but Catra knows it’s as firm an order as any she’s ever given.  It puts her back up.  “Why?” She asks, a little petulantly.

“She mentioned she’s been working on some new tech.  I figured we could go see it.  Plus!”  Scorpia makes no secret of observing Catra’s red-stained, tear-streaked face.  “It could be relaxing.  It can get so busy and stressful up here, ya know?”  _It’s a ruse, it’s so obvious, but…_

“Fine.”  Scorpia beams at her agreement, taking Catra by the hand and pulling her the rest of the way to the elevator.  Catra tolerates it.  Entrapta’s lab is good enough to be _far away from Adora_.

The aforementioned scientist is buried in blueprints when they enter the lab.  Scorpia stands back after Catra walks past her, and she locks the door behind them.  Entrapta looks up at the noise.

“Oh. Hi Catra!  Hi Scorpia!  Did you need something?”  Her inquisitive red eyes take in the two of them, and they linger on Catra’s mess of a face.

“Hey, ‘Trapta.  Boss here needs to get away from the bustle upstairs.  Do you mind if we talk in here?”  Scorpia’s really good at the “phrasing things that aren’t requests as requests” thing.  If Catra could summon any of her higher faculties right now, she’d make a mental note to remember that.

She isn’t sure Entrapta gets the subtext, but it makes no difference.  “Sure!” She says happily.  “You can talk as long as you want.”  She takes out a small remote from her work apron and hits a button on it.  The room suddenly gets quieter.  Catra hadn’t noticed the soft whirring sound of running computers until it was gone.  “In total privacy!” Entrapta adds with a proud smile.

“Thanks, Entrapta.  You don’t have to go,” Scorpia says, as she leans against one of the various work tables covered in robot parts.  Then she turns to address Catra, who has been dreading this moment.  “Ok, Catra, what’s going on?  Something’s very wrong here, and you better fess up.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Catra spits, but the venom she tries to inject is weak.

“Well, let’s look at the clues,” Scorpia says, brushing off her pathetically transparent harshness.  She holds up a hand and starts to count off her fingers.  “You call me, out of the blue, saying you’ve captured She-Ra.  Not  _killed_ , as you said you would do at the start of today, but  _captured_.”  One finger down.  “You tell me to meet you with one of the vans at  _your_  address in the New East.”  Another finger down.  “When I get there, you’re sitting in a dirty alleyway with She-Ra, injured and unconscious but alive, lying on top of a blanket next to you.  You say nothing about it, just have me drag her into the back of the van and restrain her.”  Third finger down.  “You tell me, and I quote, ‘ _watch her arm, it’s broken’_.  You specifically order me to leave the busted arm free.”  Ring finger down.  “You say nothing on the ride to base except to insist on sitting in the back of the van  _with_  the prisoner, and all you do the entire time is stare at her like a sad kitten.”

“Are you getting to the point anytime soon?” Catra growls softly, letting herself fall into one of Entrapta’s many assorted desk chairs.  Scorpia ignores her.

“You put her in your office, instead of the perfectly secure cells just a few floors below.  You make Rogelio and Kyle bolt down a chair from the cadets’ lounge, ruining the hardwood you  _insisted_  on having when this place was built.”  She has to switch to her other hand.  “You set no guards at the door.  You do nothing, in fact, except tell everyone that you’ll personally execute them if they even peek in that room.”  Catra can’t stand the ticking fingers, but she finds herself captive to Scorpia’s words, like she’s watching a plane crash.   _Sounds about right_ , she thinks miserably.  “You go into the room wearing your mask, only to storm out not wearing it after several minutes of shouting.  Your face is a mess, you’ve been crying, and you were so caught up in whatever had just happened that you,  _you_ , Catra the Tigress, didn’t notice me standing right there in the hallway.”  Scorpia pauses, recounting her fingers dramatically as if trying to make sure she hasn’t missed anything.   _Bitch…_   “Oh, I almost forgot the last one.   _You can’t lie to us._ ”  She finally drops her hands, crossing them over her chest.  “So come clean now before I have to shake the truth out of you.”  She pulls out an honest-to-Grayskull handkerchief from her pants and hands it to Catra.  “And wipe your face.”

Catra winces, partially because she knows the threat is not an idle one, and also because she knows Scorpia is right.  She takes the handkerchief and roughly rubs at her cheeks, sighing.  She really needs to sleep.

What should she say?  What can she say?  Scorpia and Entrapta, of all her soldiers, deserve the truth the most.  But… Adora’s face, smiling through blood and tears, keeps flashing in her head.  Even though Adora refused her, even though she’s trying to leave Catra, the thought of putting her at risk is nauseating.  _Fuck_.

Scorpia’s stare is unyielding.  Entrapta has abandoned her blueprints to watch the two of them with wide, curious eyes.

“Shit, fine, but…” She looks at Entrapta.  She has to be sure.  “You turned off all the cameras?”

The scientist nods fervently.  “And all the listening devices!  The walls are soundproofed too, so no outside sound tech can listen in.”

“Alright.” Catra swallows, clears her throat.  “What I’m about to say cannot leave this room, not a single word, not a syllable.  This conversation didn’t happen.  Do you both understand?”

Scorpia’s expression softens.  “Of course we do, Catra.”

“Okay.” She exhales shakily, gripping her knees tightly to stop her hands from trembling.  “So…” _Gods, but it’s hard_.  Vocalizing the truth is very different from thinking it, a much more daunting battle, and she’s fought damn well enough of those tonight.  “You know that I… have a girl, outside the business.”

“Huh?  Oh yeah, what’s her name?  Adora, right?”  Catra nods.  “So is this something about her?”  Catra gives Scorpia a loaded look.  She glances up at the ceiling, gripping her leg so hard that her knuckles crack unexpectedly.  Scorpia follows her gaze, confused, but then… “Oh.  _Oh!_ ”

“Yeah,” Catra says softly.

“By Eternia…” Scorpia places a hand on her own cheek, eyes wide with the realization.  Then she looks back at Catra, sympathetic to the point of pity.  “Jeez, boss, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well…”

“What?  Well what?!”  Catra, shamefully, had forgotten about Entrapta’s presence.  The little genius looks worried and confused, her eyes darting between Catra and Scorpia.  “Oh, you know I don’t get it when you guys do that silent talking thing.  What’s wrong with Adora?”

“’Trapta,” Scorpia says, putting a soothing hand on the woman’s shoulder.  “Sorry, we forgot.  The truth is… that Adora is She-Ra.”

Hearing the words aloud makes Catra flinch, but that’s nothing compared to Entrapta’s reaction.

“She’s… Adora is She-Ra?”  She steps away from Scorpia, and several emotions---none of them good---pass over her face.  Shock, confusion, fear, and biggest of all, _guilt_.  “But that’s… I-I didn’t know that, I.  But if she’s She-Ra, then the virus!  Oh, oh no!”  Her hands clap over her own ears, her nails digging into her skin, and she starts to breathe heavily.

Catra stands in alarm, but Scorpia beats her to the punch.  She’s always known how best to handle Entrapta when she gets upset like this.  She gently but firmly pulls the scientist’s hands away from her ears, talking in a calm, soothing manner.  “Hey, hey, hey.  It’s okay, ‘Trapta.  Just take a deep breath with me, okay?  Deep breaths.  In… and out… You can do it.  Adora is going to be fine.  You said it yourself.  She’s going to heal.  It’s all fine.  In… and out…”  Catra looks around the room for anything that it might.  She spots the old-fashioned tape recorder Entrapta likes to keep on her and grabs it.

“Hey, ‘Trapta, Scorpia is right,” she says, mirroring the woman’s calm tone.  “Here, take this.”  She gently presses the device into Entrapta’s hand, which closes tightly around it.  Tearful red eyes turn to look at her.

“Sh-she’s going to be okay?”

“Yeah, ‘Trapta, she’s going to be perfectly fine.  Take another deep breath with us.  In… and out.”  Catra and Scorpia fall in sync, breathing in an exaggerated fashion for Entrapta’s benefit.

It takes a minute, but she does begin to calm down, clutching the familiar device and following their steady breathing.

Catra can’t say she’s surprised by what’s just happened.  Really, she should have known better than to drop the truth on Entrapta without more warning, but she hadn’t been thinking.  Entrapta likes Adora, had liked her since high school.  Adora has always been kind to her, something that couldn’t be said of many of their classmates.  Entrapta might not understand the finer points of social interaction but she’s always known who her real friends are and how to care for them.  The thought of hurting any of them would surely be agonizing.

“You’re sure?” She asks Catra again.  “Even after what…?”

Catra gulps, hearing the words Entrapta can’t speak. “She’s going to heal,” she says simply.  She can’t promise anything else, so she won’t.

It’s quiet between the three of them for a moment.  But out of the corner of her eye, Catra sees several of Entrapta’s computer screens light up red.  Just a second later, a loud, beeping alarm sounds throughout the entire lab.  Entrapta spins around, already back in action, running over to one of the many monitors.

“Uh oh!” She says, furiously typing.

“What is it?” Scorpia asks, leaning over her shoulder to look.

“My security systems just registered a big problem.  Or more specifically, 54 medium-to-large problems with guns who are currently attacking the building!”

“ _What!_ ”  Catra jumps over the table blocking her path and braces herself on the back of Entrapta’s chair to get a good look at the screen.  Sure enough, right outside their front door is half a platoon of gun-toting thugs, firing on their door guards who are struggling to hold their ground.  Damn, what  _else_  could possibly make this night worse?  She meets Scorpia’s gaze over Entrapta’s head.  “We need to get up there now.”

“ _Wait!_ ” Entrapta says, jumping to her feet.  “You can’t go up there now, you both need weapons! Come with me.”

“Entrapta, we don’t have time---”

“You two don’t have any protection!  You don’t even have guns!  But I’ve been working on several new designs and I’ve assembled a prototype that should dramatically unbalance the playing field.  I’ve also added some upgrades to your suit, Catra, since you brought it back earlier.”  She heads straight to a set of double doors towards the back of the lab, throwing open to reveal…

“’Trapta, have I ever told you you’re the best girl I know?” Scorpia asks as she stares, open-mouthed.

Entrapta turns to regard them with an ear-to-ear grin.  “No, but you could start now!”

 

 

“Entrapta really is the best!” Scorpia says jubilantly as she backhands some loser with a giant metal pincer.  Said loser goes flying, bouncing off the wall and crumpling in a heap.  Catra almost smiles at that as she slashes her claws across her respective opponent’s throat, ripping through the gray and green insignia tattooed there.   _Hordak’s thugs_ , she growls to herself.  When it rains, it fucking floods.  Hordak was an old enemy, older than Catra herself.  He and her mother had fought for years over territory in Bright Moon and its surrounding counties, neither claiming much victory despite many deaths.  Her mother had been too wary to push forward and Hordak never had the right resources to mount a proper takeover. So mostly they had harassed each other, and Catra, to her annoyance, inherited that harassment. 

Ordering a direct assault on a Horde compound is out of character for him, but she can’t puzzle out his motivations right now.  She and Scorpia drop their enemies one by one until there’s none left in outside the stairwell.  They advance with haste, charging out into the hallway by Catra’s office.  Her heart skips a beat when she sees that the door has been shot open, and there’s half a dozen goons now aiming at them.  “Scorpia, take the right!” She commands as she pounces with a bestial scream at the one standing right in front of the door.

“What the f---!  _Agh-glk!_ ” Is all he manages to say before he doesn’t have vocal cords left to speak with.  Catra throws him aside like a ragdoll and rushes through the open doorway.

There’s two in here, and both have guns aimed at Adora, who is struggling fiercely with her restraints, righteous anger and fear evident on her face.  At Catra’s entrance, the two get distracted, and she doesn’t give them a second chance.  She taps the new button built into the palm of her gauntlet, and power surges through her whole arm.  She gets the first one with a hammer fist directly to the back of the neck.  There’s a loud _pop!_ and he crumples to the floor dead.  The second can’t even shift his gun before she knocks it from his hand and grabs him by throat.  She takes his head and slams it into the wall, feeling it give way with a splattering of blood.

She can hear Scorpia taking down the rest.  Breathing heavily from the exertion, she turns to face Adora again.  She thinks she must really look the part of the evil villain now, the blood-soaked Tigress with freshly butchered prey at her feet.

But Adora isn’t looking at her the way she should.  There’s no revulsion or horror.  She is surprised, nervous, but most of all she is… relieved?

“Catra,” she breathes.  “ _You came back._ ”

_Of course I came back.  What does she think_ …  Catra shakes her head roughly, looking away to get her thoughts together.

She’s stuck _again_ , for the nth fucking time.  She can’t let Adora go, but Adora will be in too much danger if she stays here.  Catra doesn’t know how the battle is faring in the other sections of the base, and she needs to be there, fighting alongside her soldiers.  But if any of those bastards circle back to here…

“Damn it,” she growls, slamming a fist against the wall.

“Catra?”

“Shut _up_ , Adora.”  She bangs her fist again.  Damn it, damn it, damn it.  _I can’t let her go.  I won’t let her leave me like this_.  Another voice, that’s hers but not hers, retorts, _You must_. 

_She can’t leave.  What am I going to do without her?                 She will die if she stays.  Do you want that?_

She gasps, remembering how it felt in that one horrible second back in their home, when she thought Adora was dead by her hand.  She shudders.

“Catra?”

“Is your arm healing?” She asks, and she’s once again glad for the voice distortion in her helmet.

“What?  Uh, it’s better?  I can move it now, a bit.”

“Okay, okay,” she whispers, mostly to herself.  “F… _fine_.”

“Catra?  _Catra,wait!_ ”  The sound of metal cutting metal sings in the air.  In the moment of ensuing silence, the chains, shredded to bits in an instant, slowly fall to the floor.  Adora is frozen still, glancing from herself to Catra, who doesn’t say anything.  She stands, slowly and a little wobbly, but she steps away from the chair and towards Catra.  With her good arm, she reaches out.  “Catra…”

But her hand is knocked aside.  “ _Don’t_.  Just… get out of here, before they come back.”

“ _Come with me_ ,” she pleads once more, stepping closer despite Catra’s command.

“I _can’t_ ,” she snaps.  Softer, “But if you’re so eager to leave, then go while you have the chance.  I have a gang fight to win.”

She’s grateful for the mask now as she turns away.  It hides her pitiful expression.

Scorpia is already advancing on the next area, the cadets’ lounge, when Catra walks back into the hallway.  She doesn’t look back to see if Adora follows her.  Even if she wants to.

Several of her soldiers are fighting bravely when she joins the fray.  She sees Kyle covering Lonnie as she runs like a linebacker to tackle a woman twice her size.  Scorpia might as well be bowling with the way she’s effortlessly throwing boxes and chairs to take out whole groups of Hordak’s men.  Rogelio has ducked behind an overturned steel table, taking quick, individual shots that nonetheless mow down the gunners outside of anyone else’s reach.  Catra wastes no time vaulting the table he’s using and charging straight for a more heavily armed thug who’s keeping the rest of her men pinned down with machine gun fire.  He turns the gun on her, but she barely feels the bullets’ impact through her armor.

“Fucking bitch!” He snarls at her as she closes in.  He turns his grip on his weapon to slam the butt of it into the side of her face.  His eyes go wide when she doesn’t even bend.

“Dumbass,” she says, in a much more impressive tone before snapping his neck without another word.

Through the cacophony of gunfire surrounding her, she hears shouting from above.  When she’d had this place built, she’d installed a walkway overlooking the cadets’ lounge and sealed off by glass, where her captains could watch their trainees.  She turns her gaze upward now, and sees more of Hordak’s henchmen there.  There’s a flash of brilliant blue light, and one of them goes flying with half the skin on his chest burned off.  He hits the floor screaming just as She-Ra, in her shining glory, steps into view.

Even while still seriously injured, Adora is more than a match for hapless mooks.  Catra watches from the corner of her eye, and she can count the bodies falling like heavy sacks.  The Sword is out and swinging, and she wields it gracefully with one hand like she never needed another.  Catra’s a little bit grateful that she doesn’t summon it often.

Her own fight hardly requires her full attention.  With the machine gunner down, she turns to the ones blocking the exit.  She activates her jet propulsion and shoots up into the air only to come down hard on the first one, crushing him underneath her feet.  She pivots like a master and drives her armored shin into the second one’s gut, sending the woman flying backward to smash through the glass doors.  Scorpia sends one of her own flying through the door right after.  Together with their soldiers at their side, it takes a negligible amount of effort to clear the rest of the room.

She wonders at that.  Hordak is sending his B team, hell, his _C_ team by the look of it, and there must be a reason.

She loses sight of Adora as they advance.  Gulping to push down the burning knot in her throat, she moves on to the next area of the base.

Her suit is strong and her people are competent, but numbers still count, and Hordak definitely had the numbers.  It takes nearly ten minutes---a long time in a fight---to push back their advance and start to funnel them back out of the building.  She passes the bodies of her fallen troops and tries not to look at them.  She has to focus on vengeance now.  Mourning and grief---for so many things---will have to wait until she’s won.

The fighting spills out onto the roof as the Horde forces their enemies into retreat.  Scorpia and her cadets are securing the lower floors, and now she fights alone.  Her opponents may be the last of Hordak’s goons but it seems they’re also the toughest.  Seven of them, all skilled in pack tactics and dogpiling; her suit softens the worst of their blows but they keep coming.  This isn’t good.  Even the Tigress has trouble with too many enemies at once.

She doesn’t let them know that though, punching, kicking, and clawing with the same precision and ferocity as always.  Time and again she drives them back but they keep closing in.  _Punch, dodge, duck, headbutt, knee, block, kick, dodge_.  It’s a frenetic dance, and not one she appreciates.  She’s too used to dancing with Adora on equal footing.

At one point she gets distracted, and it allows this hulking monster of a man to get his arms around her waist, pick her up, and body slam her onto the concrete.  The force knocks the wind out of her and she’s left gasping while he straddles her chest and tries to pull her helmet off.  She hits another button on her suit and pumps him full of electricity, but somehow, he holds on.  _What?!_

All she can do is pull at his hands as he tries to choke her with one and yank the mask off with the other.  She can’t get any air and he’s fumbling with the locks when suddenly there’s another bright blue flash followed bellowing cries from her foes.  The hand around her throat slackens and she wastes no time bucking her hips and unseating the man, grabbing him by his burning shirt and kneeing him in the groin as she tosses him behind her.

She rolls quickly to her feet, fists raised for more, but all she’s met with is a semi-circle of limp bodies covered in hideous burns.  She turns with wild eyes, searching…

Adora is on the roof across the street, standing tall, and glowing brightly enough to light up the area around her.  She’s staring at Catra, and she’s crying.  Catra wonders how either of them have any tears left, cursing how her own eyes water.

She knows what Adora is asking.  She’s still pleading for everything Catra can’t give her.  She remains silent, watching the woman who holds her heart in a vice grip, and doesn’t move.  She can’t leave, even for her.

Adora gets the message.  Her mouth twists and her eyes shut tight.  She wipes away her tears on the back of her hand.  And then she runs away, out of sight.

The battle is still raging below.  Catra turns away, trying not feel as if she’s teetering off a precipice, a pale white cliff she wishes would just fall into the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that.

**Author's Note:**

> Adora's powers are just a bit different. She doesn't need the Sword to transform, she just summons it in battle like a spectral weapon. Her skin is tougher as She-Ra and harder to damage, and she heals very quickly from most injuries. Catra's suit is very Iron Man-like, but with a rougher aesthetic and painted in her color palette from the show.


End file.
